Random BRP thing
by serperiorthrowaway
Summary: IDK it's not great cry though if the need strikes you


Combeferre did not know what to think when the shot rang out. He was perfectly content with Les Amis taking Inspector Javert- but inside, had desperately hoped that Enjolras would decide to spare him.

Emilia mentioned the Inspector from time to time- she spoke about bringing him flowers, desperately trying to find a kind he'd like. Though his stance on the Inspector was neutral at best, he knew that Emilia considered him to be the closest to a father as she'd ever had. He remembered her asking to visit the Inspector when he had been in hospital- he remembered her worrying- he remembered how much she really cared for the stoic police officer, and although he didn't really understand why, he didn't argue. It was good that Emilia had somebody to look up to- someone to turn to- especially if something ever happened to him.

But now- this was not the case. As the unnamed man nodded in Enjolras's direction, and silence rang out, Combeferre felt like mourning. He didn't know what he'd say to Emilia regarding it. He thought his chances of surviving the night were good- it was tomorrow he was worried about. He would have to tell her about Javert. He couldn't just have her find out by herself- especially if he died, and it was after that, too. He didn't want to put Emilia through that.

Gulping, Combeferre slowly made his way past the Musain, and down the street. His house was not far, and he had a strong feeling that Emilia would be waiting there for him as he had instructed. He glanced up at Enjolras and mouthed "Emilia", to him. Enjolras rolled his eyes, but gave him a quick nod, as Combeferre made his way down the dark street.

His house had a light on, confirming what he'd thought regarding Emilia. He slowly made his way inside- the door was not locked. His house was warm inside, much different than the wet and cold of the barricades. "Emilia, my darling?" he called, his voice grave. "Are you there?"

"Yes, I am, oh- why are you here?" she said, tears in her eyes. "I missed you, oh, God, I missed you. Don't go back there, stay here, stay with me."

Combeferre sighed, wishing he could. "Emilia- listen. I only came here to tell you this- I have to go back as soon as I do."

Emilia shook her head, still crying. She muttered something inaudible as she lurched forward into him, her arms around him getting tighter.

"Listen, the Inspector came to the barricades."

"What?" said Emilia, her voice weak and trembling. "Why?"

"He was spying on us. He was trying to throw us off. Fool us."

"But... I thought the Inspector was... well... I s-suppose... it is his job, but..." she mumbled, the tears staining Combeferre's jacket.

"Gavroche found him out. We all attacked him, knocked him unconscious. Tied him up, by the neck."

"W-w-what?" Emilia cried, new tears leaking out. "W-why would..."

"Then, another man came in. Not a spy. Took down an enemy marksman none of would have seen, and asked to join us. We let him- but then, he asked Enjolras if he could deal with the Inspector."

"A-and? Tell me- tell me you didn't let him..." she groaned, wailing into Combeferre's shirt. "Tell me, please- tell me you didn't-"

Combeferre sighed, and gulped. "It was only one shot, Emilia, and then it was over. It probably happened too fast for him to even know what was going on. Just one shot- nothing else. One shot, and gone. No pain."

Emilia squeezed Combeferre tightly. "No... no... please... please be lying-"

"I'm not lying, Emilia. He's gone- he's dead. I had to tell you that, Emilia. So you wouldn't find out for yourself later."

"W-w-what do... you mean, "find out for m-myself?" said Emilia, her voice still quivering, her face stained with tears.

"Oh," said Combeferre, as he slowly let go of her. "Oh, nothing."

Knowing it was his time to go, Combeferre walked out the door, his face red, near tears himself, his fists clenched. He hated himself for getting into this- and now Emilia would lose both her husband, and the closest thing she had to a father- in the space of two days.

He cursed himself silently for being such a fool as he made his way back to the barricades.

Emilia, meanwhile, still inconsolable, tore a rose from her wedding bouquet, still sitting in the hallway, and pinned it to her button-hole, before pulling another, and placing it in a vase near her window.

Combeferre had remembered Emilia telling him about how flowers symbolized the beauty of life, innocence, happiness.

But every flower- without exception- thought Combeferre, dies one day.


End file.
